Centro-Matic/South San Gabriel - Dual Hawks

Centro-Matic’s only flaw may lie in their prolific output. It’s hard to focus on one achievement because the moment you do, they’re off releasing another album of equal achievement. And while their output is consistently better than other prolific artists (Ryan Adams immediately comes to mind), there is this nagging feeling that the band has sacrificed a masterpiece or two at the hands of simply divulging too much too soon.
If this minor complaint…the desire to have everyone recognize how amazingly good this woefully underappreciated band is…wasn’t enough, leader Will Johnson started a second band a few years ago under the name South San Gabriel. Essentially using the same supporters as Centro-Matic, South San Gabriel provides these Texans with an outlet for their atmospheric side.
Texas is a big state, I sure wouldn’t want to disparage the residents of one area for the actions of another, and I sure as hell won’t make the mistake with anything Johnson has his fingers in. Far be it from me if he wants to package both areas of his muse in a single jewel box, one that comes at the price of a single, I might add. So call it one 2008’s best bargains and one the albums you can start with when you’re first becoming acclimated with this prodigious band(s) and this enormously talented musician.
Call it one of 2008’s best albums too, while you’re at it. Bargain pricing aside, Dual Hawks represents everything that’s great about American underground rock music: next to every challenging element is a melodic hook, housed in a unique formula that sounds both reassuringly familiar and wonderfully unique.
Johnson sounds introspective on the Centro-Matic disc, carefully considering the road that led him to a second decade of unwarranted obscurity and tiredly pressing on to the next ubiquitous college town.
On “Remind Us Alive,” he remembers his youth when the ticket out was a metal cover band. At the time, it seemed like a legitimate career choice, not knowing that there was plenty of make-believe going on besides the layers of eyeliner and hairspray.
“Looking back on built in times and the speaker stacks up high
We were scattered along in crowds of black shirts and cheap wine
Did you notice the frequencies will damage you for life?
As if the saccharine songs they’re singing ain’t enough of a lie”
Unlike Wilco’s “Heavy Metal Drummer,” a song that mines similar introspection, it’s hard to tell if Johnson is looking back with elderly nostalgia, or with the contempt that he now knows that it was all bullshit.
Later tracks like “Twenty Four” don’t provide any more insight, other than the possibility that Johnson is showing the initial signs of weariness while still maintaining his original vision. “I’m trying everyday to improve and not conform/Stick with what we’re fighting for/Like the simple times before, at twenty-four.” It’s as close to a mission statement as we’ve heard, and sadly, as close as we’ve seen him considering finality.
The moment you’ve realized that this is one of the best Centro-Matic albums of their career is the same moment that you’ve noticed there’s another disc waiting.
The South San Gabriel side is a relief. These are therapeutic soundscapes, sparse with strings and occasional horns, filling what can only be described as a creative need within Will. Yes, there are times when the songs could be easily listed as Centro-Matic without much debate and even others that could be with some minor tweaking. But this is obviously the creation of another mindset, and one that has been painstakingly pieced together.
To drift off in S.S.G.’s contribution is to miss some of its complexities. The competing drum patterns and endless vocal loops of “When The Angels Will Put Out There Lights,” the surprising clarinet of “The Arc And The Cusp,” the nearly gospel quality of Johnson and Scott Danbom on “From This I Will Awake,” yes, this is an effort where all involved have considered much and left much to the imagination.
I’ll make no pretense and admit that I’m a bigger fan of the Centro-Matic side then of the South San Gabriel, but I was pleasantly surprised at how much I did enjoy the second disc. I won’t enter the debate on why a second entity even exists or why now, with this project, there’s a need to house them together. What’s puzzling is how either project is still entrenched under the radar and how an album this good can’t manage to lift them out of the Econoline and into some better accommodations.
If Will Johnson’s only sin was his prodigious output and lack of a corralling method, then a firmer hand may be in order. But how could anyone raise a heated pen to this, a streamlined collection of impressive material from two entities? It’s the work of not just one, but several talents that are deserving of more attention than what they’ve currently been provided.
Hopefully, by throwing both projects together at the same time, someone will emulate the bird of prey’s visual acuity and notice one of the country’s best-kept secrets. Dual Hawks not only ranks as one of either band’s best efforts, it flies above most anything else you’ll hear too.

This review originally appeared in Glorious Noise.

Live Review: The Broken West & Centro-Matic

The Broken West
Centro-Matic
The Picador, Iowa City
9/11/08

Damn you, Picador! With your cool fall rock schedule, late starts and weeknight gigs. I’m married! With kids! I have to be at work at 7:30am! Yes, the idea of staying out late only to get up four hours later to get ready for work is a daunting task. I would only reserve this for the best of shows and since you decided to book a pair of recent favorites on the same bill, well hello lethargy! I also noticed a few other shows I wouldn’t mind checking out (Neil Hamburger! William Elliot Whitmore!) before I remembered that I was way old and unable to put my body through the regiments of frequent clubbing. That’s why I’m counting on you, Dear Picador, to book a few early shows so that I can get home at a reasonable hour….midnight is fine…so that I can go to work and be presentable without those noticeable bags under my eyes.
As it stood, I arrived home around 1:30 thanks to missing the headliners, Whoopee, choosing to see my original motivation: The Broken West and Centro-Matic. I’d wanted to see C.M. for a few years now…ever since being turned on to them with All The Falsest Hearts Can Try thanks to a nice write-up in an Insound newsletter.
Speaking of: Insound used to send out monthly newsletters with great reviews that were typically spot on. They got a lot of money from me because of this, but then the newsletters stopped. I’m not sure if they still do these, but since I no longer receive them, I don’t spend nearly as much money with Insound as I used to. Bad for Insound. Good for my wife.
I got there as the opening band was finishing up. That gave me enough time to sit at the bar and enjoy a beer before making my way towards the front. Robe was tending as usual and after a brief Q&A of “What’s (insert old Gabe’s soundman name here) doing these days?” a somewhat familiar presence sat next to me. Admiring another Picador worker’s Neil Diamond wallet was none other than William Elliot Whitmore. He offered up a few verses of famous Diamond tunage before pondering aloud if Diamond’s Rick Rubin produced album from a few years ago was any good.
I advised that the cd was loaded with anti-piracy bullshit.
Sorry, Neil.
Someone else I vaguely recognized mentioned that the same folks that created Heavy Metal Parking Lot made another movie of similar plot. The same parking lot, the same time of year, and practically the same results. The subject matter for the newer film was Neil Diamond and the similarities between his fans and the one focused on the original film (Judas Priest) was frighteningly close.
We both agreed that this would be a film worth checking out.
A drunk patron then said something to Robe that was stupid enough to get him kicked out. Robe let him stay, which may have been a bad thing as I saw him again during Broken West’s set right at the front, harassing people for no reason. I was in no mood to have a good evening spoiled by a big drunk retard, but no confrontation was necessary as the dude went back for a refill and was not seen again.
The Broken West I had seen before…same venue two years ago…when they opened for some local band while touring to support I Can’t Go On…I’ll Go On. The band was offered a truncated set then, which was odd since they were on such an established indie, but it didn’t matter much as there were probably only a dozen or so patrons that night. Bigger crowd on this evening, but still small enough to ponder “Iowa City! What the fuck?!”
I was curious to see how the new atmospherics of their latest Now Or Heaven would translate to stage. Thanks to a touring keyboardist and a new drummer, the results were fairly close to the album. The band seemed more keyed on the newer material and occasionally compliant with the older tunes. “Brass Ring,” the final got a fairly wicked rework with some chaotic aggression before reigning back in for a tender reprise.
Awesome
By the way, that "awesome" photo above is one of three pictures I got the entire night as the battery in my camera died seconds after capturing the back of The Broken West's bass player Brian Whelan's head, a blurry photo of Ross Flournoy and a darken shot of the stage thanks to not having enough juice to power the fucking flash.
Because of the four band bill, B.W. played another truncated set, but since the next band was Centro-Matic, there wasn’t a lot of whining on my part.
CM’s Will Johnson is one of those slight, unimposing dudes that you wish would shave, buff up, and become the famous star that he should be. It’s one thing to be prolific like Johnson is, but it’s another to be prolific with a high degree of awesome tunes. Johnson provides that…in not one, but two bands…and he’s still criminally overlooked even in these days of spontaneous communication.
This was the first time I’d seen Centro-Matic, so contemplate my virginity when I declare that their set bordered on transcendent. It’s not like they delivered anything precise or groundbreaking; they were just precisely the best band in the world at that particular moment.
The band started out with general chord progressions, seeming to arrive from the sound check and ceasing the moment it turned into a potential song. The band caught themselves and began their proper set, which seemed to be constantly spontaneous with the exception of the first few songs. I noticed Johnson yelling song titles over the din of the previous song, essentially forgoing the need to have any of the material on a sheet of paper. Pence is an underrated drummer….this seems to be a common thing in Centro-Matic…but the jewel of the band is Scott Danborn. Alternating between keyboards and bass, he provides the band with their melodic high-end vocals, the ones that rub the gravel of Will Johnson’s vocals into smooth surfaces and things of beauty.
One of the things that made this night so special for me was how they played…without asking…three Centro-Matic songs I wanted to hear (“Call The Legion In Tonight,” “Calling Thermatico” and “The Mighty Midshipman”). Throughout the set, Johnson jumped in place in apparent jubilation and frequently lifted his leg in what only could be described as trying to take that giant leap forward. He looked so caught in the moment that it is possible he had no idea that he was even doing this, particularly when his foot nearly struck bassist Mark Hedman who was stalking the stage at the same time.
Like a good music supporter in these days of free downloading, I bought both band’s latest and didn’t feel the urge to round up everyone to get an autograph. I did snag the B.W.’s setlist which makes me the proud owner of two of them now. I chatted briefly with guitarist Dan Iead and bassist Brian Whelan before I felt stupid a decided to leave. Brian laughed when I suggested that the new album needed to be different like it was because you can’t keep doing power pop over and over again. He said he was laughing because he agreed, but I still felt that I should just stop talking and leave.
I caught Ross Flournoy by himself outside as I was leaving and thanked him for a recent interview. At the risk of sounding gay, Flournoy is a sweetheart. Totally approachable and seemingly well read, Ross confessed that it was licensing deals that enabled the band to survive and tour after the debut, that they would never do a tour schedule as hectic as they did last time and that, thanks to high gas prices and a sluggish economy, the band would be taking a loss when this tour is said and done.
Understanding that times are tight for everyone, particularly touring indie bands like Centro-Matic and The Broken West, makes a few hours of less sleep than normal a little more tolerable. But when they also manage to exceed your expectations in the process, it more than makes up for any amount of shuteye.
Night Night…